Divided I Fell
by WriterGreenReads
Summary: AU from a prompt. It's present day, and there is a need for only one nation to represent Italy. "There was only one Italy now. He knew he had to die."
Today always comes. Tomorrow sometimes seems far away, and time looks to be a slowly flowing river sluggishly winding through the course of history. However, all times come to an end, and the nations knew it better than anyone.

Today was a day that had been dreaded since 1871. The place? Rome.

Ever since Italy had reunited, the two respective representatives of the North and South had become anomalies among their own kind. But neither side, neither culture, had completely taken over the other, and so they both existed, seemingly in harmony. You had your Sicilians, your Venetians, and everyone in between. Italy was still divided, in a sense.

But times changed.

About 50 years ago, Romano and Veneziano both started feeling it. Deep in their nation hearts, a change was happening. They had to be more careful around dangerous things and act more human than the others. They both had lived long enough to understand what was happening.

There was only one Italy now.

Lovino knew he had to die.

He thought this over as he sat in the chapel, head bowed. His fingers ran over the smooth wood of the bench, tapping out an ancient rhythm that he thought Antonio may have taught him a long time ago. One hand tightly clutched a cross.

Of course it had to be him, he thought. A flash of his brother's grinning face flashed across his thoughts, and he grimaced slightly, squeezing his hand so tight the sharp corners of the cross bit into his palm. If _he_ didn't, then they would both fade. He couldn't let that happen.

A poisonous voice whispered in the back of his head. _Besides, who would care that you're gone? Everybody loves Feliciano more anyways._

 _You deserve to disappear._

They hadn't discussed it with any other nations, but they knew. All of them knew. They were connected, and they all felt the call of the land in the same way. If one Italy died, then the other would take up the mantle of Italy's personification. Otherwise, they would both eventually die, and a new Italy would be born.

The nations, especially the ones that Romano and Veneziano were close to, had tried talking to the two of them, but there wasn't really anything for them to say. What would you say? How do you encourage one of your friends to die, only to save the other? But he saw it in their faces. Their pitying glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Those last reassurances that would not be out of place at someone's death bed. _He_ was expected to die.

Lovino raised his face to the shaft of sunlight gleaming in through the stained glass window, blinking back the burning feeling behind his eyes. The warmth spread over his features, soothing him. His lips softly ran over his last prayers. Reaching up, he hung the cross back around his neck with a note of finality,

He shoved a hand in his jacket pocket, feeling the cold glass of the vial there. He brought it out, morosely staring at the clear liquid inside. One of the advantages of being quasi-immortal was that you eventually figured out exactly what would kill you.

It's better this way, he thought. No long goodbyes. He hadn't seen anyone all day. But tomorrow… A stab of pain burst in his chest. Tomorrow Feli would still be alive. The loved Italy would continue to exist, happy and safe.

"Lovino!" A Italian voice, strongly tinted with a Venetian accent, rang out through the empty chapel. The southern Italian flinched in surprise, hurriedly placing the vial back in his pocket. He stood up from where he was seated, turning to see his twin walking towards him. That's funny… He thought he had locked the doors.

Feliciano slowed to a stop in front of Lovino, his eyes searching his brother's face intently. Lovino was dully surprised to see a serious expression firmly in place on his normally cheerful brother's features.

"How are you?" Feliciano asked softly.

Lovino scowled, crossing his arms. What a stupid question.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," he spat. He humphed and turned his back, directing his gaze back towards the pulpit and its stone ornamentation.

The southern Italian tensed as the other, unfazed by his brother's harsh reaction, stepped up beside him and contemplated the same view.

"Are you praying?"

Lovino opened his mouth, fully intending to let loose another caustic reply, when the reminder of his impending demise clapped his jaw shut. Did he really want to be an asshole to Feliciano in the last few moments they had together?

"…yes."

"Ah." Feliciano hummed, serenely watching the statue of Santa Maria. Another few moments passed.

"Do you still believe in God, Lovi?"

Lovino blinked, flustered by the sudden calm question. He glanced downwards, studying the pattern of the stones beneath his shoes. He took a deep breath.

"Yes. But if there is anything I've learned over these years…" The ' _these long, long years'_ went unspoken. "…it's that I don't believe in his forgiveness."

His brother sighed. Lovino turned to him, his normal scowl gracing his features.

"Stop doing that!" At his brother's surprised and questioning glance, he extrapolated. "Acting, so, so- Serious! And not cheerful!"

Feliciano chuckled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Oops?"

Lovino grumbled to himself, pivoting a half-turn away again. He hesitated.

"Fe..feli? Umm… You know…"

His brother stepped forwards and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Lovino hunched inwards, not willing to face him. With a surprisingly strong grip, the northern Italian pulled him around so that they were face to face.

A sad smile lifted the corners of Feliciano's mouth, his brown eyes glimmering in the sunlight.

"I love you, brother." Feliciano pulled Lovino in for a tight hug. The grumpier Italian slumped forwards into the embrace. Feliciano brushed a light kiss on his brother's forehead. "Never forget that, okay?"

Feliciano stepped back, making a good distance between the two of them. All Lovino caught was that one last bittersweet smile before a swift movement brought the flashing handgun out of the northern Italian's jacket. Lovino froze as it came to rest against Feliciano's temple.

" _FELICIANO!_ "

An ear-shattering gunshot rang out throughout the empty halls. A bright red glittered across the once-pristine chapel floors.

The nation representative of Italy held his lifeless brother in his arms and wept.

And now there was one.


End file.
